When I was very little I
remember arguing with my mom about the possibility of there being somebody else
in the world who shared my name.
We happened to be in line at a video store and to prove her point she
asked the clerk to show my how many other Michael Burtons had accounts
there. In a town of about 20,000
people, at that single video store there was no less than nine other Michael
Burtons! (Granted, this would have
been about 1983, so this would have been the only video store into town, but
consider how many Michael Burtons probably didn’t even own VCR’s yet). I was devastated to have my
individuality striped away so unceremoniously, to have my unique snowflake of
an existence crushed under the cruel boot heel of… wait, did you say
snowflake? Ho... ho…hold up. How the hell is Santa going to find me
among the multitudes of Michael Burtons spread across this globe? He just writes all that stuff on a
piece of parchment with a quill. This is why I didn’t get that bike last
year, isn’t it? I didn’t throw I
tantrum, externally anyway.
Inside, I had the first existential crisis of my young life and I might
not have been able to verbalize it then, but on some level I knew that God was
dead.
Perhaps it wasn’t quite that dramatic, but the digital age
has brought a new problem to those with a mundane moniker. Establishing a web presence can make or
break a career these days. When one
Googles Mike Burton, the first hit is for a comedian with the name who starts
by saying he should not be confused with the other Mike Burton who is also a
comedian. And then are a number of
the sites by or about other MB’s who are more famous than me for one reason or
another.
If you need further proof of possible confusion, about a
year ago I was asked to join a group called Mike Burton Forever, composed of
about 60 men who share my name. I
joined, of course, and found them to be a pretty decent and predominantly wacky
bunch of dudes (the grand plan of the group was to have our own convention in
Las Vegas and all check into the same hotel on the same day, just to watch the
staff melt down in frustration).
I’ve “friended” couple other MB’s, which has made awkward posts if one
of us “likes” the other’s status or photos.
The solution is as obvious as it is painful to contemplate:
I need to start going by my full name, Michael Bryant Burton. Facebook, blogs, school work, websites,
podcasts, any potential material I put my name to probably should attached to
Michael Bryant Burton. When
Googling that name there are two exact hits. My own Flickr account (that I don’t remember putting my full
name on) and a Facebook page for some guy in North Carolina, who frankly looks
like a complete tool. And, of
course he is, Michael Bryant Burton sounds like a tool. Like a guy who wears a sweaters tied
over his shoulders, enjoys completive rowing and recreational nerd punching. That, or he’s an aging hipster who
describes himself a screen-print artist, wears a corduroy jacket and a soul
patch, hits on younger girls by offering them clove cigarettes.
Ugh. But it’s the only name I have, or only three
names. Unless I come up with a
great pseudonym to work under (perhaps Wes Mantooth, Funkminster Buller or
Doris Kearns Goodwin), but how many historians use pennames?
I’d really like your feedback on this. It is potentially a huge change and
actually has me a little stressed.
Thanks.
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